


Who You Meet In The Mists

by notanightlight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanightlight/pseuds/notanightlight
Summary: An unexpected encounter of the ghostly kind.





	Who You Meet In The Mists

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful friend Amy for the beta. She works so hard trying to reign in my commas. 
> 
> Day 5: Haunting/Spooky

“Just when you thought the air in Gotham couldn't get any thicker…”

Jason's voice carried easily through the conspicuous silence of the night. The normal sounds of the city were so muffled as to be nonexistent. There wasn’t even a need to use the comms when everyone was in such close proximity.

Dick let out an amused snort as he waved a hand through another unnaturally thick curl of mist. Even a little wisp like that was enough to momentarily blot out the fingers of his glove.

“Try to keep it to relevant comments only, Hood,” Damian’s voice cut through the mists, “and spare us your inane opinions.”

The boy appeared a moment later, first as a smudgey silhouette that gradually grew clearer as he approached his two eldest brothers. He came to a stop at Dick’s side, his arms crossed as he glared out into the mist.

Jason let out an exaggerated huff from Dick’s other side.

Dick had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud, because Jason had _nailed_ that offended high society tone that he'd heard from multiple pearl-clutching matrons at galas throughout the years.

“Well _someone's_ got his tights in a twist,” Jason quipped. “You know what your problem is?”

“You.”

“You’ve got it too easy,” Jason continued as if Damian hadn’t spoken. “None of you younger Robins have ever known the character building experience of freezing your butt off, bare-legged in a snowstorm with a leotard wedgie riding up your ass!”

“Don’t go dragging me into this,” Tim commented as he approached the group. “No sign of the cultists, by the way.”

Damian tutted.

“Take some credit. Switching to long pants is one of the few things you did right.”

“Hey,” Dick protested, “don't knock the short pants. They've got history!”

Damian made his opinion clear with a disbelieving snort.

“The first time you make an ugly costume, I'm gonna wait a whole week before I laugh in your face, just so you can run around for all that time looking like an idiot.” You could practically hear the gleeful anticipation in Jason's voice.

“You assume that I'd ever design something that was less than the epitome of style and function.”

“Just you wait, kid. Everybody makes at least one.”

Damian rolled his eyes. He was going to enjoy proving Jason wrong over and over again.

Dick just shook his head with a smile and caught Tim’s eye over Damian’s head. The corner of Tim’s mouth quirked up in an answering half-smile.

It wasn’t often that this much of the family was in the same city at the same time anymore, especially with Dick’s move to Blüdhaven, Damian’s Teen Titans, and Jason’s Outlaws, but Dick could happily listen to his brothers ribbing each other all night. If Cass had been in town, they really would have had the full set.

Tim was of a similar mind: content to enjoy the way they could launch barbs back and forth with the intent to tease, rather than wound the way they had in the past. The space was a good thing in his opinion. It gave them all some breathing room so they could keep their tempers in check.

By this point, Jason and Damian’s verbal sparring had somehow strayed into who had the superior whipstitch, which really was a moot point since Alfred’s had them all beat no questions asked. Still, Jason was clearly enjoying the chance to wind Damian up, and Damian was evidently having more fun than he’d like to let on, judging by the smirk on his face.

From in front of the boys Bruce melted out of the mists like some dark specter, the swirling eddies amplifying the mysterious nature of his usual entrances.

“Stay focused,” he reminded the group at large.

“On what? The scenery?” Jason asked, gesturing at the featureless view around them, completely obscured by the mists.

“We're dealing with too many unknown variables to let our guard down,” Bruce replied. “We can’t afford to be taken by surprise.”

Jason crossed his arms with a displeased huff.

“So far all these cultist have managed to do is summon up some vaguely creepy smog. They don't exactly seem like the criminal masterminds of the century.”

Dick offered Bruce a shrug of his own, adding, “You gotta agree with him, B. Right now they seem more annoying than dangerous.”

“You know better than to underestimate magic users.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dick replied, rolling his shoulders into a more ready stance and ignoring the comments Jason was making about “goody two-shoes automatically obeying daddy’s orders.” Dick personally thought he was being more than generous considering he wasn't pointing out how Jason had shifted into a better fighting stance as well.

“Honestly, this is what I hate the most about going up against magic users,” Tim said with a sigh, “they rarely make sense. I mean, there's nothing to gain from this. No profit, no notoriety, nothing. The mist isn't even causing much of a problem for the city considering they summoned it this late at night, and at the fairgrounds, no less.”

“Just because their motive is unclear doesn't mean there isn't one.”

Tim lifted a hand to his mask to toggle through the settings on its lenses.

“Well I'm starting to wonder if the mists are just supposed to be a smokescreen so they could make a getaway, because I don't see any heat signatures around here except for us.”

Damian shook his head.

“They were already incanting by the time we arrived. Whatever their purpose, they didn't summon this in response to our presence,” he said with a frown.

“Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way,” Dick offered, “We've all been assuming that they're up to no good, but it's like Red Robin said, ‘they haven't hurt anyone and they've made a point of summoning this stuff about as far away from the general public as you can get within city limits.’ Maybe these cultists really aren't planning anything sinister.”

Damian gave him flat look.

“They called them The Mists of the Mortal Veil.”

Dick held up his hands.

“I'm just saying…”

“Until we have a motive, we are going to approach this situation as if it is dangerous,” Bruce cut in, effectively ending the argument. “Pair up and fan out. I don't want anyone out of direct line of sight with at least one other member of the family. If you find anything suspicious, report in; but do not under any circumstances touch it.”

“We know, B,” Dick said rolling his eyes. He knew it was just Bruce's way of showing he cared, but come on, no touching magic doohickeys was superheroing 101.

“I call Nightwing!” Damian said without missing a beat. “We've obviously got the best working relationship.”

“You know you're not the first person to play Robin to N’s Batman, right,” Tim commented dryly.

“Of course,” Damian replied, spinning to face Tim. “I'm just the best.”

Jason chose to ignore the youngest two and their petty squabble to turn a critical eye on their mutual mentor.

“And just who are you planning to pair up with, huh?” he asked, suspicion coloring his voice.

Bruce's only reply was a grunt. Which, for those who were fluent in Batspeak, translated to, “I don't want to answer that question for fear of self-incrimination.”

“I knew it! The rules are for everyone except Batman. Fucking typical!”

Dick rolled his eyes heavenward as Jason started into a familiar rant about Bruce's hypocrisy, making a perfect counterpoint to Tim and Damian's bickering.

“Aaaand… we’re arguing again,” he said to no one in particular. The smile on his face was both fond and resigned.

He was just about to say something, either to try to defuse the situations or egg them on -he hadn't really decided yet- when a chill raced up his spine. Judging by the way the others fell silent, he wasn't the only one who felt it.

To one side, Jason's hand hovered over one of his guns. A roiling queasy feeling had settled in his stomach and his instincts were screaming at him. As much as he hated to admit it, he was glad to have Bruce standing nearby. It was reassuring to feel his solid presence over his shoulder when every sense was suddenly telling Jason that the otherworldly was present.

To the other side, Tim and Damian had wordlessly moved to stand back to back. Tim could feel the tension radiating from Damian's form and wondered if the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end the way Tim’s was. He quickly resumed cycling through the settings on his mask’s lenses, scanning for any sign of the source of what had put them all on edge. Infrared, UV, binocular zoom, it didn't matter. Nothing was visible except for the mist.

Then, the sound of something distant and faint rose from the silence.

“ _Robin_ …” a feminine voice called through the mists.

Tim whirled to face it.

“You know how we were just talking about not knowing their motive?” he asked. “ I get the feeling we're about to find out.”

He shifted so that Damian was behind him, seamlessly slipping into a defensive formation with the others around their youngest member.

There was a time Damian might have taken offense at that for an imagined slight against his capabilities. Back then he would have broken formation and charged in to prove his worth, but years of fighting side by side with his family had shown him otherwise. It still chafed to be protected, but he understood that it was less about his family's faith in him and more about their love for him. So for now, he stayed put and saved any complaints for later.

“ _Robin!_ ” the voice rang out again, rising and falling with a sing-song quality.

Damian had a batarang in hand, as did Bruce. Tim hefted his bo staff a little higher and a soft click alerted the others that Jason had taken the safety off his guns. Dick’s head tilted slightly to one side as he listened, his escrima sticks held up and at the ready. All throughout the family there were subtle shifts as stances were adjusted. Tension rose with every moment the mysterious caller remained hidden.

“ _Where are you?_ ” it called again.

Dick slowly lowered his escrima. There was something about that voice. Something just at the edge of his memory that he couldn't quite grasp. He took a step in the direction the voice had last come from, listening hard.

“What are you doing, Goldie?” Jason hissed, shifting slightly to fill the space Dick left.

Dick just holstered his escrima without acknowledging the question.

“Nightwing?” Bruce asked in his unique way of taking one word and turning it into both a question and a command.

Before Dick had time to respond the voice rang out again, even clearer than before, “Where’s my little Robin?”

Dick’s heart felt like it was caught in his throat as he finally placed the voice.

“ _Mom?_ ”

He had barely breathed the question, but in the quiet of the mists it was clear as a bell.

“What?” Damian asked incredulously from behind him.

“Robin!” the voice continued to call.

Dick wondered how he could have forgotten it even for a second.

A deep voice joined in, calling, “Where are you?” and Dick felt tears stinging his eyes. Without another thought he took off towards the voices at a dead run.

“What the hell!?” Jason shouted as Dick bolted into the mists, but neither he, nor any of the others hesitated as they immediately gave chase.

“Nightwing!” Tim tried to get his brother’s attention. “Slow down, we don't know what's going on here!”

“I cannot believe I'm saying this but listen to Drake! This could be a trap!”

“Names!”

“They obviously already know!” Damian huffed back at Tim.

Dick didn't even slow his pace as he plunged deeper into the mists. He just hurtled towards the voices of his parents still calling out to him. “Mom! Dad!” he called back. Emotions tumbled through him in too messy a tangle to be named, but he almost felt like a kid again. He felt like he could fly.

From behind him, Jason blinked hard, then reached up to check the setting on the lenses in his helmet. Nope. It wasn’t his helmet acting up.

“Guys, I think something even weirder is happening,” he called out to the others.

Sure enough, up ahead the blacks and blues of the Nightwing suit were melting into vibrant reds and greens. A yellow cape seemed to materialize out of thin air. Dick’s figure appeared to shrink before their eyes as the final version of his Robin suit became momentarily clear before smoothly shifting into progressively older versions.

Damian swore and put on an extra burst of speed.

By the time the silhouettes of a pair of people became visible through the mist, the Robin suit had given way entirely to the colorful unitard of the Flying Graysons and Dick looked no bigger than the tiny ten-year-old that Bruce first met.

Damian was gaining on Dick now that he had the advantage of longer legs, which was a strange concept to say the least. If he could just get close enough to grab him, maybe they could talk some sense into him.

Up ahead, Dick was oblivious to the others pursuing him as he barreled forwards. All of his attention was on the steadily resolving figures of _his parents_. They were so close now he could see their smiles.

“Mom! Dad!” Dick shouted again, taking a bounding leap to close the final distance between them. Mary Grayson caught him with ease and immediately drew him close in a tight hug. The little boy returned it fiercely, wrapping both his arms and legs around his mother.

At the sight, Bruce skidded to a halt. His hand snapped out to grab Damian’s cape before he could get any closer. Tim and Jason drew to a stop beside him, boggling at the scene unfolding before them.

“Should we…?”

Bruce answered with decisive shake of his head, his eyes never leaving the trio before him. He watched as John Grayson wrapped the both of them up in his arms, a warm smile on the man’s face. There was a sharp pang in his chest at the sight of Dick as a child again, clinging to his mother with all of his strength under his father’s watchful gaze. Magic or no, he was reluctant to rip Dick away from his parents’ arms.

“No. Let him have this for now.”

If they did turn out to be malicious, Bruce would be ready to act.

After a long moment of embracing, Dick pulled back far enough that he could look in his mother’s eyes. A grin was plastered to his face.

“Did you see me? Were you watching? Did you see what I did?” he asked excitedly, his small frame practically vibrating with energy.

“Of course we did,” Mary replied, beaming right back at him.

“And we are so proud of you!” John chimed in, swooping in to scoop Dick up under his arms. With an expertly done maneuver he flipped Dick up so the boy was doing a handstand over John’s head. Dick’s tiny hands were pressed firmly into his father’s calloused palms. “You've grown into such a fine young man. A real hero!”

“And you even kept up your training!” Mary added.

Dick’s smile grew even wider if possible. A happy laugh bubbled forth unrestrained.

“And guess what! I've got even _more_ family now!” he exclaimed, rolling out of the handstand so he could cling to John’s shoulders. “I already had you and Mom, but now I've got Bruce so that means I've got _two_ dads!”

John nodded seriously, a twinkle in his eye as Dick continued talking with barely a pause for breath.

“And Alfred is practically my grandpa.”

He twisted to look at his mother with wide eyes.

“I never had a grandpa before!”

Mary nodded her head in response, biting her lip in a very familiar way to hold a laugh at bay.

“And I'm a big brother now!” Dick continued. His head swiveled back and forth between his parents as if he could bear to let either one out of his sight for long. “I've got three little brothers _and_ a little sister!”

He ducked his head, suddenly going a bit sheepish.

“I kinda taught them some of our secrets about flying,” he admitted. “You're not mad, right?”

“Of course we're not mad,” his mother said, reaching up to brush the unruly tumble of his hair off his forehead. “I'm just glad you have so many people to catch you.”

“Besides,” his father added, “they're family, right?”

Dick turned to look at the vigilantes standing awkwardly behind him. He took in Tim’s uncertain shifting, Jason's restless hands, and Damian's perplexed frown. Then he met Bruce's eyes through the cowl lenses, easily reading the little micro-expressions that told him that Bruce was unsure of what course of action to take, but was willing to follow Dick’s lead.

Dick’s smile was subdued, but no less genuine as he replied, “Yeah. They're the best.”

He turned back to his parents.

“I can't wait for you to meet them.”

Mary's expression went a bit sad. She reached up to take Dick from his father, setting his feet back on the ground. With gentle hands she cupped his face.

“Oh, my little bird, I wish we had the time.”

Dick reached up to hold his mother’s wrists.

“You've got to go already?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he searched his mother's face. He didn't mean to sound ungrateful when this was already more than he could have dreamed of, but it was just too short a time to have his parents back. He'd missed them for so long and... It just wasn't fair.

“I'm sorry, Dick. We never wanted to leave you, but we can't stay. The Mists are already starting to clear.”

John set a hand on Dick’s shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze, and Dick let go of one of his mother's wrists so he could grab ahold of his father's.

“I promise it's not for forever. You'll see us again someday,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. Dick tried to return it, but couldn't help the way his eyes were starting to tear up again.

Mary pressed a kiss to his forehead and he had to close his eyes to keep the tears from falling.

With an earnest expression, John met Bruce's eyes from over Dick’s head. He held his gaze for a moment before saying, “We can't thank you enough for raising our boy.”

Bruce acknowledged him with a solemn nod, because there were no good words to express how grateful he was that Dick entered his life. Especially when it took a tragedy to do so.

It seemed like John understood, as he returned the nod before turning his attention back to his family. He and Mary took a step back reaching out for each other with their free hands.

The three Flying Graysons stood for a moment, simply holding each other by the wrists, drinking in the sight of each other one last time.

“Remember, you’ll always be my little Robin,” Mary said. “I love you, I love you.”

It was something they used to say before each performance. One ‘I love you’ for each of the others in their family so it would always be the last thing said before swinging out without a net. Hearing it now sent a sharp pain through Dick’s chest.

“I love you, I love you,” his father echoed.

Dick had to draw in a deep breath to pull himself together enough to reply.

“I love you, I love you.”

Dick’s voice broke on the words, but he got them out.

“Come on, Dickie boy, give us one more smile,” his father requested.

It was difficult, but he managed to pull off a convincing grin despite the stinging in his eyes.

“It's time to let go,” his mother said softly.

Dick nodded, still smiling and tried to gather up some strength. He took a deep breath and gave his parents’ wrists one last squeeze, trying to memorize the feel, before letting go.

The instant he did so, Mary and John Grayson were gone. Standing there was only Dick, fully grown and wearing the Nightwing suit, with a painful smile on his face and his hands open. He took a shaky breath, the smile slowly shifting into a grimace as he drew his arms in to wrap them tightly around himself.

“How?” he choked out in a quavering voice.

He started to fold in on himself, crumbling like building collapse shown in slow motion.

“How does it still hurt _so much!?_ ”

Bruce was there in an instant, dragging Dick close and holding him tight as he shook apart in his arms. He pressed Dick’s head to his shoulder, letting him block out the world the way he used to to do when Dick was still just a little boy haunted by tragedy and barely starting to heal. His heart was breaking for his son, for the wound reopened by having lost loved ones back just for them to disappear just as quickly. All he could do was hold Dick steady and offer silent support.

Behind them, the three remaining boys hovered awkwardly, even more directionless than when the spirits first appeared.

“That was…” Jason trailed off. He turned away from the pair, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, like he was watching something that wasn’t meant to be seen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied. This certainly wasn’t how he had expected the night to go. Even as the mists were dissipating the air seemed charged with emotion. He felt unsettled, seeing the Flying Grayson’s just the way they appeared on that fateful night so long ago. It was a sharp reminder that, despite the bright colors and cheerful reputation, Robin had been born from tragedy.

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget, you know?” Jason said, finally holstering his guns.

Tim glanced at his eldest brother, still wrapped up in Bruce’s arms and Batman’s cape. He could count the number of times he’d seen Dick break down like this on one hand and still have fingers left over.

“Most of the time, I think he wants it that way,” he replied. It wasn’t the happiest realization.

Damian crossed his arms, obviously upset although unwilling to admit it.

"So when we find those cultists we're going to kick their asses, right?" he growled.

"Oh, definitely," Jason answered.

Thinking about what they were going to do to the idiots that caused this was much preferable to standing around feeling useless.

The soft scuffing of boots against the ground alerted them to Dick’s approach with Bruce shadowing him. He stopped when he was close enough to rest a hand on Damian's shoulder, offering them a smile that none of them believed for a moment. Damian shifted a little closer to him.

"Well…" he had to stop to clear his throat before he could continue in a stronger voice. "This has certainly been an interesting night. How about we call it and head home?"

"Perfect, if we get back fast enough we may be able to convince Pennyworth to let us get in a movie before retiring," Damian replied immediately, grabbing Dick by the wrist and dragging him towards the direction where they had parked the Batmobile. "You said we could watch the next Indiana Jones film."

Jason's strolled along after them, quickly picking up on what Damian was doing and calling out, "Can’t we just skip to the third one?”

Dick huffed out a soft laugh in reply.

Tim shook his head in begrudging amusement. It looked like Damian had taken the situation well in hand.

"I'll call ahead to Alfred and ask him to get some hot chocolate ready," he told Bruce, but he paused with his hand halfway to his comm. "He's going to be okay, right B?”

Bruce nodded, reaching out to lay a reassuring hand on Tim’s shoulder.

"With some time and family nearby, he will be.”

Tim considered that. He looked ahead to where the mists had cleared enough for the others to be visible as Damian called driver's seat and Jason paused long enough to call shotgun before throwing an arm over Dick’s shoulders and continuing his argument for ignoring the second Indiana Jones movie all together.

Time and family, huh?

Tim found he believed him.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know!


End file.
